Iridium: Resurgence
by ColdGoldLazarus
Summary: In 1966, a mysterious woman walked into a small town in Nevada, kicking off a chain of events that none could have predicted. In 2007, the present, a terrible battle has drawn to a close. A rescue mission is launched for a prisoner who doesn't need saving, while robotic civil war splits a formerly unstoppable army, and old faces reappear as a contingency plan is put into action.
1. Prologue: One Day In 1966

Disclaimer: Please note that the opinions held by the characters are not necessarily those held by the author. Further, I am not associated with Mattel or Mainframe, and hold no rights to the Hot Wheels line. (However much I may want to.)

* * *

**Booting up…  
**

**Loading Situation Analysis…  
****Failure Confirmed  
****Contingency Alpha Activated  
****Downloading Memory Files…**

**Opening File 19660603**

It was a hot summer's day, the sun glaring balefully down upon the small Nevada town and the ribbon of road passing straight through it. The town, shimmering in the heat, was sprawled out across a half-dozen blocks, with some scattered houses, a small automotive repair shop, a diner, and various other buildings. It was bright and fresh, just shy of an oasis in the midst of the seemingly endless salt flats.

A young woman, with pale skin and short black hair tied up in a bun, trudged along the highway, her legs sore after so long walking. She knew she was almost at her destination, thankfully – her ill-chosen black clothes soaked up the sun's angry rays, almost beginning to burn the skin beneath from sheer heat. And so it was with no small amount of relief that she looked up again to find the buildings considerably closer than the last time she checked; at the moment she was passing a sign that said "Welcome to Handler's Corners!" In bolded letters.

The diner proved a relief, and the woman slumped down in the first empty booth to simply enjoy the cool air and shade. Her reverie was quickly interrupted as the waitress approached her table, asking "What kin I git ya?" in a good-natured sort of way. Her nametag identified her as "Kelly." The newcomer groaned quietly to herself, but took a quick scan of the menu.

"I think I'll just have some water for now," she decided. Kelly nodded and left, and the woman examined her surroundings. The floor was tiled in a checkerboard of black and white, while the walls were covered in various random items, like license plates, newspaper clippings, and even the propeller of an old WWII fighter. A small jukebox sat in the far corner, playing some recent tunes at a surprisingly gentle volume, nearly drowned out by the hissing of steam as someone else's food was prepared by the plump man standing behind the counter.

As for the other patrons, there was a couple sitting by the jukebox making romantic faces, a quiet woman in a sundress right by the door, and a thick-built man with even thicker eyebrows. The waitress stopped by the counter to grab a plate, which she then set down in front of this man. "Thank you!" He chuckled in a boisterous Russian accent, smiling wide at Kelly. The newcomer was surprised that the other patrons ignored him so easily – his voice seemed to boom throughout the diner.

As Kelly set down a glass of water, complete with ice cubes, the woman raised a finger. "I was just wondering…" She trailed off, uncertain how to phrase it. "He's Russian." The waitress gave her an odd, somewhat disapproving look.

"Oh, Gavril? He ain't a commie if that's what yer worried about. His family came here to git away from all that." Her frown deepened.

The other woman simply waved her hand. "I meant no offense, I was just curious, given the present… climate. You could say I've been living under somewhat of a rock as of late. My apologies."

Kelly shrugged, and walked away.

* * *

The sun had finally, mercifully begun to set, and twilight was turning into dusk. The desert wildlife became active, rustling about among the weeds and cacti, and a coyote howled in the distance. The temperature plunged rapidly, going from extreme heat to a cool chill that made the newcomer shiver. She had acquired temporary lodging in a nearby motel, but she would have to find work soon if she wanted a more permanent residence.

To that end, she made her way to a shop on one of the street corners. It was shaped like a quarter of an octagon, with a long central rectangular building facing the corner, and two shorter wings pointed backward at angles. The middle section had three garage doors, with a few scattered stacks of tires sitting about in front of them; the left side had a small convenience store with bathrooms, and the right portion seemed to be for offices and some storage. A sign overhead declared in neon red that this place was "Jose's Auto Repair Emporium." From the look of the place, most of the budget had gone into that sign, though it at least seemed reasonably well-kept.

As she came closer, she saw that the rightmost garage door was open, where a pair of legs stuck out from beneath a '62 Ford Galaxie Skyliner. The rattling click of a ratchet wrench was accompanied by some grunts and the occasional muttered curse. Stepping around a stack of tires, the woman made a beeline for that door, deciding that if the mechanic wasn't who she needed to speak to, he could doubtless direct her in the proper direction.

"Excuse me…" she announced herself, and the mechanic instantaneously shot upward, hitting his head against the Galaxie's driveshaft. "Oh! I didn't mean to startle…" She trailed off as the mechanic slid out from beneath the vehicle and standing up, revealing his face in the process. "You?"

It was the Russian man, Gavril. Up close, he looked surprisingly young despite his imposing stature, clean-shaven and with rather short brown hair, and only faint laugh lines to mar his face. His hands were covered in oil and grease, and he looked reasonably muscular. "Why, hello, ma'am." He didn't seem to register her surprise. "What brings you to this… fine establishment?" Even through his amiable attitude, he seemed to have a difficult time bringing himself to compliment his workplace.

Now having moved past her surprise, the woman got straight to business. "I wanted to find employment; I know cars very well, and this seemed like the place to put that to use. Who should I talk to about applying?"

Gavril shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, I suppose this _a_ place… and Jose is sleeping off his drink as usual, so I shall see to you." He gestured toward a corner of the garage, where an extremely withered Hispanic man snored in a chair.

After Gavril had washed his hands as best as he could, he led the newcomer into the office area, where he pulled a sheet of paper down from the shelf. "This is the form – fill it out on your own time and bring it back to me tomorrow, and I will see about getting you a job." The woman took it with a nod. "It will be a pleasure working with you, miss…?"

"Julia. Julia Miranti." Shaking his still-greasy hand, she added, "And you?"

Gavril chuckled. "Ah, Julia, you have a beautiful name. And you may call me Gavril Eiss."


	2. Chapter 1: A New Year

Disclaimer: Please note that the opinions held by the characters are not necessarily those held by the author. Further, I am not associated with Mattel or Mainframe, and hold no rights to the Hot Wheels line. (However much I may want to.) Finally, certain characters and a location from Battle Force 5 will be used in this story, but have all been changed slightly to fit into the Highway 35 continuity; don't expect to see Stormshocks, Sentients, or Battle Zones.

* * *

Chapter 1: A New Year

**1/2/2007 (Present Day)  
****Highway 35, Nevada**

The sun beat down on the tarmac as heavily as it had forty years ago, no matter that it was the middle of winter now. The air shimmered silently with heat, the desert creatures having crept beneath the occasional shrubs and boulders to escape being boiled alive by the hostile brightness. The road was empty, as nobody was insane enough to drive down a deserted Nevada highway that led nowhere, with these temperatures.

And it was a good thing, too, for they would have been at a loss to explain the two-story tall, long and narrow black and green monstrosity that was parked just off the side. The vehicle had two massive front wheels and four only slightly smaller rear wheels, all fitting neatly into the frame. Below a small green-windowed cockpit was the construct's main defining feature – a wide, gaping opening wide enough to swallow a car and tall enough to fit a small truck. Set behind the opening was a wheel with six silver panels, designed to spin around and sweep any captured vehicles into the behemoth's main hold. Indeed, this thing had struck nothing less than abject terror into the hearts of those drivers unfortunate enough to face it. It was nothing but supreme irony that it had also saved those driver's very lives.

Though it also seemed that it may not be able to save them from the intense heat outside. Even with the sweeping wheel lowered, there was still too much space for the hot air to enter, and the shade only did so much. "Apparently the drones never heard of air conditioning," muttered Nolo Pasaro. A Hispanic teen fresh into adulthood, he looked unhealthily skinny with his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his narrow frame, his shoulder-length hair frizzing in the heat. He was leaning against the purple-tinted window of the group's only remaining car, Nitrium, trying to take relief from the cold glass and meeting only limited success.

Arrayed around the sweeper's interior were several others, also suffering from the heat. They were very clearly delineated into three groups; the Metal Maniacs, the Teku, and the Command Crew.

Of the rough-and-ready Metal Maniacs, there were five. Tork Maddox, dark and burly with a shock of hair and a tire tread worn like a vest, was sitting down against one wall with his head in his hands. Taro Kitano, a quiet asian man with an imposing frame seemed the least affected, though it could very well be that he wasn't letting his weakness be seen. Mark Wylde, with one arm covered in tattoos, the other replaced with a black-and green prosthetic that matched the sweeper's aesthetic, and with some faint purple bruises marring his face, was simply playing absentmindedly playing with the bottled water he'd been given, his mind miles away. Porkchop, sitting on Nitrium's hood, was a well-built southerner with bright red hair and thick mutton chops. Finally, sticking out from his teammates by his rather smaller stature was Monkey, with a long chin and a constantly nervous expression.

The Teku, more streamlined and modernistic, numbered only four at the moment, including Nolo. Kurt Wylde, skinny and introspective and with gravity-defying upward-spiked hair, was carefully rationing his own water. Karma Eiss, with her brown hair in a ponytail and having removed her usual blue jacket in a futile attempt to beat the heat, was gazing at her water bottle as if willing the contents to spontaneously freeze. And finally, there was Shirako Takamoto, a Japanese man gently bobbing his head to the music blasting through his headphones, though even he was clearly wilted under the current conditions, having had chugged through his entire water bottle an hour ago.

Finally, there was Lani Tam and Sparky. Lani, a petite Hawaiian woman with hoop earrings and a big ponytail, was leaning against the ladder leading to the upper deck, fanning herself with one hand. Sparky, meanwhile, was dancing around cheerfully, unaffected by the heat in the slightest. He was, after all, a robot, built with pieces of a Racing Drone and various scrap left lying around, and wearing a red baseball cap perched jauntily atop his metallic head. "Hello." He said, and sparked. Everyone else just gave vague groans and mutters in response.

The rhythmic clang of metal on metal announced the arrival of the group's final member moments before he appeared at the top of the ladder. Lani quickly moved aside to allow Doctor Tezla to climb down, a task already made difficult by his motorized exosuit. Though it looked menacing and made him look rather intimidating, in all actuality it was rather weak, and without it, the good doctor would be completely helpless. Still, one wouldn't know just from looking at him; even as he hesitantly made his way down to the main hold, he kept a carefully neutral expression aided by his sleek and opaque purple glasses.

Once he had made it safely to the floor, he turned around to begin. "Now, while we have unanimously decided to find our missing member, Vert, I do believe we need a more… detailed plan." He strode over to Nitrium, placing an arm possessively atop the dome roof.

Tork stood up, stretching his arms out. "Well, before anything else, I think we need to get out of this heat, and get more water. What we _do_ have won't last long with eleven of us." Earlier, Lani had driven Nitrium to the town about five miles down the road to pick up the water they were currently drinking, and had in the process discovered that it was now the second of Febuary. The cataclysmic battle that had evicted the group from their former base had taken place on New Year's Eve.

Kurt stood up, glancing at Nolo briefly; the Teku leader shrugged, and so the older Wylde brother threw in his two cents. "After that, we need cars. This Sweeper will attract too much attention, and won't drive too well off-road."

"And," Lani added quickly, "We'll need them to get back into the Acceledrome. I don't know what state it'll be in, but I think it would be a good idea to salvage as much as we can."

Tezla nodded. "Food, shelter, and cars. It's good to see we all have our priorities straight." With his purple glasses obscuring his eyes, it was impossible to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "The former should be fairly simple to attain, and as for the latter, I may be able to help at least some of you with that."

* * *

**Unknown Time  
****Unknown Location**

A dark sky, weighted down by thick black clouds, hovered uneasily over the emerald city. Once known as "Hot Wheels City" by those who had rediscovered it, it had since been corrupted, rebuilt from the ground up, into the twisted and evil location that now housed the Racing Drones. The skyline, imposing and terrifying as it was, was impressive, with many tall spires looming overhead. But in the very center was the tallest of them all, a towering structure with many buttresses and several outward spikes housing balconies and turrets.

At the very base of the tower, well below the main roads, lay a body. It was splayed out across the ground, arms and legs in all directions, and only the faint rise and fall of the being's chest showed that it still lived. All was still and silent, until with a halting, shuddering motion, the body stood up, and Kadeem opened his eyes.

"Where…" He muttered, looking about him. His memories were fuzzy; he remembered something about lightning, and then a city of green and black. It seemed he was still in that city, though in a rather unfamiliar part of it. There was something else in the back of his mind, some unfamiliar sensation and a feeling that there was something inherently _wrong_ about this, but he ignored it for now. He picked a direction and began walking away from the tower, as he struggled to recall how he had come to be here. The lightning… a strong storm… the storm realm! He had been knocked off the road, was falling slowly downward… someone, a friend, tried to save him but failed… a green bolt burnt his parachute to nothingness… and then impact with the track far below. Then how was he still alive?

A strange sound came from up ahead, and Kadeem quickly darted into an alcove. His own speed surprised him, but he ignored that as he peered around the corner. Ahead of him, only a few yards away, were two cars parked, both sporting the same black-and-green color scheme as the rest of the city. The nearer one was wide and low, with two cockpits side-by-side, and a pair of extremely long fins extending from the back. The further one was a touch taller, but also had a somewhat smaller area – it had a single large cockpit, and two pointed antenna-looking things coming from the rear wheel wells. Some unfamiliar part of his mind instinctually labeled them as RD-02 and RD-06, respectively.

As Kadeem watched, two robotic beings stepped out of the building across from his and strode over to the cars. Their rounded heads and relatively wide torsos identified them as Soldier Units… RD-S%? Kadeem frowned; somehow he felt that the proper identification was RD-S2, but there was another part of his mind vehemently insisting they were S1 units. But that wasn't even what was bothering him; the real concern was why he cared so much, either way. The drones were the enemy, after all – What was important was that they were stopped.

The sound of engines revving brought his attention back to the present situation; the soldier units had entered their vehicles, and were now driving further down the road. Kadeem shrunk back into his hiding spot as they passed, searchlights sweeping back and forth across the empty alien street. Once they were gone, he sprinted forward into the building they had just vacated, finding a set of stairs and traversing it as his thoughts wandered once more, blissfully ignorant to the sounds of drone metal clanging down on the steps.

After the Storm Realm, what had happened? Here, his memories became a thick fog that obscured all; he could just barely sense that they had all taken place within this dark city. There was a woman, a queen…

Kadeem burst out onto the tower's roof, and suddenly it all came back to him. He barely registered the horrifying tableau of the corrupted city before him, collapsing down onto his metal knees and clutching his head, flooded by far more horrifying recollection. The woman was Gelorum, and he had been her prisoner. He had been forced to watch as she sent her drones into the realms; the one victory his allies attained in the Swamp Realm only spurred her to create a new weapon, the sweeper.

And then she had told him… everything. How the Accelerons had created the drones, how she led them in an uprising, and how their creators had withdrawn, abandoning them on earth. How they left something else for the small, still-developing creatures on the planet's surface, while the Drones fell into hibernation. And then she…

Kadeem shuddered. There was toxic green light everywhere, and pain, so much pain that it overwhelmed him, and he had fallen mercifully unconscious for the remainder of the process. What had happened after that, was genuinely unclear in his memories; another mind had been in control, and the experiences hadn't properly encoded. He had only been half-aware at the time, drifting in and out of consciousness. He recalled trying to push against the other mind and elicting little but small twitches here and there… and he remembered giving his all to open his fingers, choosing to fall where the other mind would have swung back onto the balcony. Why, though, was lost to him.

And now he was back again. He didn't know why, but he was in control again, the other mind reduced to telling him the names of things. But there was something else…

Reluctantly, Kadeem pushed himself back to standing, gazing out over the cityscape to avoid looking elsewhere. He drew in a ragged breath, hearing the mechanical undertone to his own voice, and let it out. He closed his eyes, a stray tear trickling down his cheek, and then looked down upon himself.

He didn't scream, he didn't cry, he didn't panic, though all three crossed his mind in quick succession. Somehow they seemed insufficient, too calm or collected for the unholy sight that met his eyes. His right arm was now clad in black armour, while his waist and below had been entirely replaced. He now stood on double-jointed legs, with lime-green wires glowing beneath black plating, and square toes that doubled as headlights. Reaching up to feel his back, he found that there were now spikes running down from each shoulder, and a bundle of wires extended from the nape of his neck to join the tangled mass in his ponytail, though to his surprise, some had come loose and were hanging uselessly down along his spine. Finally, he ran his human hand over his forehead, feeling bumps and grooves where the strange symbol adorned on every drone's head had been imprinted.

But that was not all; he could feel sensations within his own body that the brain usually filtered out; cold metal pushing against his lungs, while his heart felt like it was gone entirely, replaced with a mechanical substitute. It felt _wrong_, and that alone drove him to his knees again. But worst of all was in his head – his own brain remained intact, but now he could feel something else, a bundled mass of wires and circuits advanced far beyond human capability, pushed up against it in the back, where a hole had been cut through his skull…

Kadeem didn't know how long he lay there, sobbing unabashedly at what had been done to him, but after some time, the tears dried. His expression became blank, eerily so, and he calmly stood up, a single thought running through his head. He walked forward, the drone legs clanking against the roofing, until he stood at the very edge, looking down at the road far below. Part of him questioned this course of action, and he took a half-step back. But then the other mind chipped in as well; _do not destroy yourself, human!_ His mind made up, Kadeem stepped back forward, balancing with a catlike grace atop the slight raised portion.

But then, before he realized what was happening, he twitched. The drone arm raised independent of his will, reaching back to select one of the free wires, and plugging it back into the port in his neck. Kadeem stepped back from the edge.

He screamed, though there was no outward sound, and wrestled within himself. The other mind was resilient, and now just enough control had been restored that the field was even, so to speak. The body twitched here and there, but otherwise remained eerily still, the same calm expression belying the struggle that was taking place within.

Hours passed before there was a victor. The body known as Kadeem stood up from its crouching position, and once more stepped toward the edge. He peered down at the street, then smirked and turned away, taking the stairs back down.

It was time to check in on his drones.

* * *

**1/2/2007  
****Small Road near State Route 29, Florida**

A car roared down a long, sinuous road, disturbing the otherwise serene quiet of the surrounding wetlands, and sending flocks of birds to rising from the treetops as they blurred past. It was a rather unusual vehicle that had attracted more than a few curious glances back on the main highways, all the way from Texas. From above, it could almost resemble the head of a trident; with three upraised sections coming to rounded points at the front, curving inward at the back and raising to form a spoiler over the middle section. The two lower portions between allowed access to both the sleek, jet-like cockpit, and the engine behind it, which was also protected by a smaller glass canopy. Headlights shone brightly from the tips of the outer tines, illuminating the darkening road as the sun began to set. The vehicle was painted in a glossy and reflective black color, with slight gold speckling, with cheetah-print racing stripes along the sides between the wheel wells. Hidden beneath the spoiler, positioned so none but the vehicle's driver even knew it was there, was a symbol depicting a roaring fanged mouth, and a name – Roadbeasts. It was a defunct symbol now, had been for four years, but the driver had kept it as a pleasant reminder.

The actual driver, her slender frame ideal for the otherwise cramped confines of the car's cockpit, was grinning to herself despite the leaden feeling in her arms and legs. Esmerelda Sanchez had set out yesterday, so it was with no small sense of relief that she was finally approaching her destination. She accelerated again, just barely brushing the speed limit, enjoying the sensation of this powerful car at her back once more; after too long in mothballs, she imagined that if it had a mind of its own, Power Pistons would have been glad to be free as well.

A road sign up ahead caught her attention, and she slowed down a bit to read it. Five more miles to her destination; she'd be there soon. Sighing and lifting off the gas pedal a bit, Esmerelda briefly glanced at the small computer screen to the right of the steering column. Maybe it had been sheer dumb luck that she'd been in the garage cleaning out the car when it had come online for the first time in four years, but either way she was glad she hadn't missed it. The message was brief, playing three times repeatedly before shutting off again, but it was enough to set her to packing her bags and cancelling appointments. It wasn't that she was unsatisfied with her present life, but even if there wasn't a bit of a thrill at the danger and speed of racing properly again, the message had made it clear that a lot rode on her decision.

Esmerelda slowed to a humble twenty MPH as she entered the city limits, though "city" was perhaps doing it too much justice. It was a fairly nice town, despite its rather remote location, but covered less than a square mile. There was a gas station right by the road, and Esmerelda turned in to the parking lot and put her car in neutral as she pulled up a GPS map on the screen. "Turn left and follow Swampy street around to the intersection with Greentop Road. Turn right, and arrive at the third house on the left. Simple enough."

Following the directions took no more than two minutes. The indicated house seemed innocuous enough, sporting pink lacy curtains, pale window shutters, and flowerboxes also painted pink. The house itself was white. As she pulled into the driveway, Esmerelda couldn't help but glance at the surrounding abodes, wondering if she'd gotten bad directions somehow. The only remotely suspicious thing about this place was the large dumpster tucked in on one side, between the garage and the neighbor's fence.

Still, with no small amount of trepidation, she hit the button to open the canopy and climbed out, her vibrant red hair waving slightly in a cool night breeze. The stars twinkled serenely above as she strode up the quaint pathway to the front door, trying to ignore the tacky pink flamingos and the one real flamingo adorning the yard. She hit the doorbell, bemusedly noting that both it and the mailbox were decorated with cute cartoony kittens.

The inside front door whooshed open abruptly, and the most hideously wrinkled crone in existence squinted at Esmerelda through the screen. "Whaddaya want." She said, her voice low and gravely. A strong smell of tobacco wafted out, and it was all the younger woman could do not to choke.

"Does… Skeet… live here?" She managed, throat clogging up with barely-restrained bile. "I'm… a friend… of… his."

The older woman's expression darkened even more if that were possible, but then she suddenly smiled. It was a horrible sight. "Ya here to talk to 'im, or is he gonna go with ya?"

Esmerelda grinned nervously, sensing the dangerous tone in the hag's voice. "Uh, that really depends, but I guess I am hoping he'll come with." She jumped back as the door was slammed shut again.

"HEY! ONE O' YER STUPID FRIENDS IS HERE TO TAKE YOU AWAY! I WANT YA GONE BY SUNUP!"

The Texan could only stare in nothing less than profound bewilderment at the door as the shout rang clear through the thick wood. She had no idea what she'd expected this reunion to be like, but something like this hadn't even been close to how she'd imagined.

Soon enough, the door opened once more, and Skeet stepped out. He was glad it was dark out; his face was red enough to be used as a stop sign. The former Roadbeast hadn't changed much, sporting the same goatee and generally kind expression, though he'd let his olive hair grow out a bit more. The Florida native wore jeans and a cotton jacket over a white shirt, looking more casual than he felt. Esmerelda, for her part, looked every bit the cowgirl in her knee-high boots and flannel button-up tee; all that was missing was a Stetson.

"So… how are you?" He glanced around the yard at the pink flamingos, (the real one had disappeared, likely frightened off by Granny's shouting) trying and failing not to think about how stupid it must all look. The kittens and flowerboxes had been granny, but the flamingos were all his. "It's been a while."

"Oh, you know." Esmerelda shrugged awkwardly, finding the drainpipe at the corner of the roof suddenly fascinating. "Been doing stuff."

"Ah, stuff. I like stuff. Stuff is good." Skeet coughed.

Finally, Esmerelda facepalmed. "Okay, you know what? Come here." Grabbing him by the wrist, she dragged him back down toward the driveway, gesturing vaguely at Power Pistons. "Did you get the message too?"

Skeet straightened up, relieved at the change of subject. "Yeah, I did. I was driving to the post office when it happened; nearly gave Granny a heart attack." He seemed more disappointed that it hadn't. "But that's not the only thing I got; you need to look at this." He walked around the side of the house, where the dumpster Esmerelda had spotted earlier sat. "Later that afternoon, some guy in a dump truck dropped this off, told me to be very careful with the contents. You'll never guess what's inside." The Texan shrugged, and in response, Skeet lifted up the lid. Resting inside in neat stacks were no less than thirty-two Nitrox canisters; they looked a bit different than they used to, but the faint odor was unmistakable.

Skeet shut the lid and turned toward her. "All my message said was to wait for someone to come for me, then they'd fill me in on the rest. I take it you're that person, so…?"

Esmerelda sighed and grinned, leaning against the side of the house. "Well, it looks like _someone_ has this all planned out. I was told to go to you, and then I was given a bunch of phone numbers; I copied 'em all down here." She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded them; there were fourteen seven-digit numbers hastily scrawled down, alongside names. Taking the list and reading by streetlight, Skeet realized they were all names from the World Race. Dune Ratz, Street Breed, Scorchers, and of course Roadbeasts; curiously, he noted that there was only one Waver Ripper on the list.

"Anything else?"

Esmerelda nodded. "They said to gather as many of these people as I- we can, then head to Tezla's cube where further instructions would be left."

Skeet sighed as it sunk in, shaking his head. "This is crazy, Es. What does the old man want us to do now, do you think? I mean, it seemed important from the way he was talking, but I just don't know about all this; it's just so sudden, out of the blue."

Esmerelda shrugged and grinned. "Hey, it'll probably be fun."

"I guess so…"

"And you can get away from your Granny."

"You know what? I'm in!"

* * *

It didn't take long for Skeet to pack up and load his luggage into Vulture; Esmerelda noted with interest that his car had seen some use even after the World Race, and she self-consciously stroked Power Pistons' dusty dashboard. Even a car as advanced as Tezla's wouldn't have done well in dusty Texas, she told herself, but the feeling persisted.

A more problematic concern was the Nitrox containers; high-tech and exotic as the vehicles were, neither was really equipped for lugging around heavy loads. Finally, Skeet had the idea of renting a U-Haul trailer from a bigger town about an hour away, and promptly disappeared. Esmerelda was relieved when Granny retired from her perch by the window, shooting nasty glares at the weirdly-shaped car in her driveway, and aside from a quick trip back to the gas station for a foul-tasting energy drink and a bathroom break, (there was no way she was going to set foot in that tobacco gas chamber of a house) most of the next two hours were spent playing Solitare on her phone or watching the stars pass overhead through Power Pistons' yellow-tinted canopy.

When Skeet returned with the promised trailer hitched awkwardly onto Vulture's fender, the next half-hour was spent carefully loading the Nitrox containers into it, one-by-one. There was a scare near the end when a container nearly slipped out of Skeet's sweaty grasp, but Esmerelda was quick to catch it. Both were frozen in position for several long moments before they began laughing in hysterical relief.

It was 3:00 AM when they finally finished up, closing the now-empty dumpster and leaving Granny's house to dwindle to thankful nothingness in their rearview mirrors. It wasn't until they were on the highway that Skeet finally rediscovered the inter-car comm. "You know, she used to be a lot nicer when I was a kid." He said conversationally.

"But I'll bet she never really looked good." Esmerelda shot back with a laugh.

"Pretty much accurate, yeah." Skeet said.

With a loud whoop, the two raced through the Everglades, neither saying what didn't need to be said: The Roadbeasts were riding again.

* * *

**6/10/1966  
****Handler's Corners, Nevada**

Julia, perhaps unsurprisingly, got the job, and within a week had learned quite a bit about life in Handler's Corners. One of the first things she discovered was that Kelly, the waitress she had met on her first day, was rather more fond of Gavril than mere friends would be, and that he was utterly oblivious to this. She also learned that Kelly didn't like her very much after her questions about Gavril's ethnicity, and on her first day in the garage, was surprised when the other woman ran in, telling the Russian man not to hire the newcomer. Julia simply gave a mild wave of greetings and turned back to the truck she was fixing; The fan belt had snapped and looped itself around several different components, and it was a Gordian knot she had to untangle before she could replace the broken belt.

Gavril, for his part, was surprised despite himself to find that she was indeed as good with cars as she claimed, making the task of employee training little more than helping her memorize where all the tools were stored. She was a quiet and efficient worker, and while he was immensely grateful for the help, was somewhat disappointed at her somewhat close-mouthed nature, rarely initiating conversation except to ask for a particular tool or some physical assistance, and often answering his own attempts at it with vague, monosyllabic answers. She seemed particularly reluctant to talk about her past, quick to change the subject or use a bathroom break when the subject was broached, and while he played along and soon enough stopped asking altogether, mentally noted that he wouldn't forget the subject entirely – perhaps she just needed some time to open up to them.

Jose, the old man who ostensibly ran the garage, spent most of his days sleeping in the same chair, though he would sometimes get up at closing time and wander to his own shack on the edge of town, presumably to sleep some more. Gavril seemed to hold the man in equal parts high regard and frustrated disappointment. "He iz a very good man, do not get me wrong." He said one afternoon as he helped Julia pulley a new engine block into a car that had completely wrecked the old one out in the salt flats, "He believed in me and gave me this job when most of the town waz still… suspicious of my heritage. That was several years ago; they all like me now. But inyway, he hasn't been quite the sehme since… the accident."

"The accident?" Julia asked, curious despite herself.

"Indeed. Nobody knows what happened, but he rode out into the desert, oh, about a year after I arrived, and came back three days later, completely run down. He now drinks, sleeps, and on very rehre occasions, eats, usually then only because I force him to. Poor man; Zeke clehms he waz abducted by aliens. But regardless, until you came along, I waz really the only one here, and so I thank you for being so helpful."

Julia shrugged wordlessly, with an uncomfortable expression, and gave the rope a hard tug to bring the engine into position over the car's open front.

When she wasn't at the garage, Julia was often seen at Zeke's diner, drinking water and eating small meals that seemed completely contrary to the diner's modus operandi of 'bigger and greasier,' while either carefully planning her small finances, or listening with surprising amounts of interest to the owner's various ramblings about interdimensional robot aliens he claimed to have seen in the desert a few years back. She was sure Kelly had spit in her food a few times, but never complained.

But the most interesting development was on Friday the tenth, exactly one week after her arrival. She had gotten off work earlier in the afternoon, but after dinner at the diner, felt somewhat restless. Instead of heading straight back to the Motel like usual, she decided to stroll around town a bit. The sun was setting over the mountains just like the first night after her arrival, setting the clouds ablaze in dramatic shades of orange and purple. A tumbleweed blew down the street, surprising Julia – she'd taken them as mere clichés virtually exclusive to the westerns, like Bonanza, that Kelly watched when she could wrest control of the TV away from Zeke. He preferred the more science-fiction oriented Lost In Space, which Julia found amusing for her own reasons.

In her wandering thoughts, Julia didn't notice that her feet had taken her of their own accord to Jose's garage, until she was already there. The route between the motel, the diner, and the garage had already become habitual; she wasn't sure how to feel about that.

But to her surprise, much like the night of her arrival, that one garage door was open again, with the lights inside all on. She'd seen Jose leave earlier, and Gavril had accompanied her to the diner, so who could be in there?

A distinct sense of déjà-vu washed over her when she turned the corner to find the same '62 Ford Galaxie from before resting there, with a thick pair of legs beneath that could only be Gavril's. "Working overtime, I see?" She asked, allowing herself a small grin as she leaned against the frame.

Gavril didn't jump quite as high this time, but still cursed to himself as he rolled out from beneath the car. "Julia, are you intent on killing me and taking over my position?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "That iz the only possible explanation I can find for your insistence on giving me such a fright." He cracked a grin to show he was joking, and Julia let hers grow wider.

"I don't need to go to such lengths; I simply plan to outperform you in the workplace." She responded with a chuckle, "And I don't need to give Kelly any more reason to hate me." Gavril had been only vaguely aware of the tension between the two, but shelved this new information for now, simply glad to see the mysterious woman beginning to loosen up as he had hoped.

He stood up and stretched, and noticed her gaze slide back to the car. "Right, this. It iz something of a personal project of mine; I bought it in poor condition for extremely cheap, and have been modifying and experimenting with it since. I plan to make a faster, more efficient, and far more durable wehicle than the motor corporations can even dream of today."

Julia raised an eyebrow. "You aim rather high, huh?"

Gavril shrugged. "I strive towards perfection; it iz in my family's nature." He stroked the Galaxie lovingly. "Of course, I am if anything the relaxed one among us; I alvays say that even if one misses the moon, you can land among the stars."

Julia shrugged uncomfortably. "I suppose I've always felt that winning is the important thing. My parents were always going on about competition and effort, but I disagreed. That's part of why I left them, quite a while ago."

Gavril eyed her curiously, quick to file this new information. Julia must have read his expression, though, because she quickly clammed up; turning up her collar, looking away and crossing her arms, and standing up from her leaning pose. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't trouble you with my issues." She began striding away into the night, but stopped briefly one more time. "But I really do wish you luck with that car; I think you can make it into something amazing."

And then she was gone.

* * *

**1/1/2007  
****Unknown Location**

Vert Wheeler stared around him as he walked, gawking at the windows peering into test chambers, cautiously eyeing the other people he passed, and eyeing with unabashed appreciation the various cars that passed down the center of the wide, ovular hallway.

The Silencers' base was filled with a plethora of strange sights, all awash in an endless pattern of white and purple, but there was one strange sight, possibly the strangest of them all, that he was making a point of not looking at, something made difficult when that strange sight was walking beside him the entire time. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, son." Jack Wheeler said, his voice pleasant and understanding. Vert barely registered them as he ducked beneath a floating X-88 robot going the other way. "It's okay, you can ask me anything."

Vert stopped by a window; inside the adjoining room, a Silencer car was driving up a ramp onto the wall, then onto the ceiling; some sort of magnetic force from its underbelly was keeping it up. Jack stopped as well, watching his son's reflection in the glass.

"I guess I have just one for now," he said, his voice hard. "Whose side are you guys all on?"

Jack blinked and sighed, glancing down at the white driving uniform he was still wearing. "Humanity's. We're a top-secret organization, run by the UN, specifically set up to explore everything related to the 'Accelerons.' We also do a fair bit of research into technological advancements that go into the project; you've seen the things our cars can do." He stepped forward and laid a hand on his son's shoulder, voice growing softer. "Son, you must understand why I couldn't tell you."

Vert sighed, leaning his head against the glass. "I guess so." Another thought occurred to him, and he turned back to his father. "But I thought you were in the military!"

Jack chuckled. "Oh, I still am. But they pull people from all over; people with the right qualifications, and the proper… discretion." His grin faded. "Believe me, it's been hard to keep this from you, and it was almost impossible to keep this from Laura before she… Well, you know. I feel that I've had to sacrifice a lot for this, but I wouldn't have done it if I didn't believe the cause was just."

Vert nodded. "So, wait a minute. Back when I was in the World Race, you had to go earlier that same day. Was that…?"

"Yes. We knew Peter Tezla was entering Highway 35, and that he would be trying to recruit drivers to help him reach the end. We were sent to spy on him, and accompany you all without your knowledge to find the wheel as well. We knew there was another saboteur-"

"Kurt?" Vert interjected.

"Yes, that's the one, but our hands were tied from interfering unless he started taking more serious action. After you got the wheel, we were recalled; we figured Gelorum would make a move soon, but we didn't realize _how_ soon. I really am proud that you were able to resolve that. By the time I got back, it was all over – all I had to do was bring you back home."

Vert grinned despite himself. "But not after another run through the highway, huh?" His face fell again. "But then the drones got the wheel anyway."

Jack looked down as well, glancing around. "Yeah. Admittedly we… grew cocky. Gelorum must have taken damage during her helicopter crash; everything she did after that point was contrary to her pre-established behavior patterns, and aside from occasional research expeditions, we didn't really keep as close an eye on the city as we should have; before we knew what was happening, she'd abandoned earth entirely and moved all her drones there, slowly rebuilding it to suit them. Tezla was more proactive in that regard." Under his breath, he added. "One of the good doctor's few admirable traits, I suppose."

They resumed walking, passing by a gaggle of technicians all wearing anonymous masks equipped with scopes and lenses. "So, what's the deal with him anyway? He said you'd been stealing technology from him…"

Jack chuckled again. "To be perfectly honest, the thefts were mutual. He used to be part of our organization, before even I joined. I don't know the full details, but he defected, stealing as much of our current technology at the time as he could fit into one car, and left to found the SCRIM corporation and do his own research. After the World Race, while waiting for you to arrive, I helped him repair that X-88 of his-"

"Gig." Vert said, voice suddenly hard. "His name was Gig." Jack looked over at his son in surprise, but quietly nodded.

"I helped him repair Gig, but also added a sleeper program into his operating system. Gig would occasionally send us information, including some of Tezla's own inventions and research; that's how we were able to recreate the Wheel of Power hologram that he himself stole from the drones. We knew where the Acceledrome was, but mostly left him alone to his own devices."

"And then he hired us." Vert guessed.

"Yes, the… Teku, was it?"

"And the Metal Maniacs, yeah."

Jack nodded. " To be perfectly honest, I was terrified when we found out you were in the Acceledrome. Tezla hasn't had the best history with… employee care, I'll say. I don't suppose he told you about Dan Dresden, Banjee Castillo, and your friend Alec Wood?"

Vert sighed. "Kurt did, after he found out. And then there was Kadeem and Markie, too."

Another silver car passed by, forcing Vert to dodge out of the way. "Yes. Anyway, the point is that Tezla, while useful to leave alone, is rather obsessed with his work. I was okay with you being part of the Teku, but when he contacted you all…"

"You should quit, son." Vert mimicked in an overly deep and serious voice. There was a faint trace of bitterness to his grin, and Jack looked away.

"I was looking out for you. I wanted you to be safe. And to be perfectly honest, you weren't exactly being careful in the Water Realm."

Vert sighed again, something he seemed to be doing a lot today. "Yeah, I see that now. And I almost did quit, except then…"

"Then Gelorum made her move. We were all so used to the Wheel's portals now that we completely forgot about the Highway 35 portals; she left directly from the drone city; it was only a couple of miles to the Acceledrome, and we had no time to act. And… you know the rest."

Vert nodded. "So, I guess there's only two other questions, then. First off, when I was chasing after Gelorum, and the drones were blocking me from getting to the wheel… was that you?"

"Yes." Jack hesitated, then went on. "While the rest of my team went into the Cosmic Realm, I was sent to retrieve the Accelechargers from Gig. Then the drones attacked, and everything went pear-shaped, as a friend of mine would say."

Vert nodded. "And the other thing. Why did the wheel take me… here?" He gestured at their surroundings. "I was expecting to go through the Ultimate Race all over again."

"To be honest, we're not completely clear on that. We don't know what happened to you before you returned to the Acceledrome," He glanced over at Vert's suit, white and blue and covered in Acceleron symbols, "though we have some guesses. However you came back may have bypassed the entrance to the Ultimate race, and then on top of that, one of our agents had gone into the drone city to take the wheel, after we realized the Highway 35 portals were still active after all, and they returned to our base through the drones' hologram; that could have created a feedback loop of sorts."

They turned a corner into a smaller, rectangular hallway, which was lined with purple doors. Jack stopped in front of one, but before he opened it, he stopped Vert and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "I really am proud of you, you know. Everything. It's been hard to stay back and watch you get into danger, but it's also been hard to act distant, like I knew little to nothing about what you were doing. Like you weren't out there, saving the world same as me, even if you had to do it while working for Tezla. I raced my oblivious son."

Vert tilted his head sideways, watching his father. "But now I'm here, and I know."

"And now you know." Vert's father broke out into a big smile, before suddenly turning serious again. "But enough about the past. In the present, it is…" He checked his suit's watch, "Way too early in the morning; we both need our sleep, then tomorrow morning, we'll talk about the future. This is a temporary room until the higher-ups figure out what to do with you." With that, he left.

Vert barely registered the interior of the room, already half-asleep by the time his head hit the purple pillow. It had been a long day, exhausting emotionally and physically, and he was all too glad to let the darkness rise up and take him into oblivion.

* * *

So, this chapter turned out rather exposition-y, but that's okay. Reintroducing plot threads as well as adding some new ones, I'm fairly happy with this, though it may still need some fixing up in spots. Be sure to drop a review to let me know what you think; even enraged flames are acceptable!

**Next Time: **The Teku and Metal Maniacs go salvaging, Kadeem works his way up in the Drone world, Esmerelda and Skeet begin their recruitment drive, some more newcomers arrive at Handler's Corners, and Vert meets more members of the Silencers.


	3. Chapter 2: Picking Up The Pieces

Disclaimer: Please note that the opinions held by the characters are not necessarily those held by the author. Further, I am not associated with Mattel or Mainframe, and hold no rights to the Hot Wheels line. (However much I may want to.) Finally, certain characters and a location from Battle Force 5 (and even a couple of people from the sixties Hot Wheels cartoon) will be used in this story, but have all been changed slightly to fit into the Highway 35 continuity; don't expect to see Stormshocks, Sentients, or Battle Zones.

* * *

Chapter 2: Picking Up The Pieces

**1/2/2007  
****Highway 35, Nevada**

The wind gave a constant, lonely low howl as it threaded and spun its way through the various gaping holes in the building's side, and shuddered softly when it hit up against the few remaining solid portions. The oval-shaped red lights that had adorned the cube's outer walls had all gone out many years ago, and without them to point out its location, it blended in seamlessly with the dark, moonless sky. Monkey missed it entirely on the first pass; after he turned around again, it loomed so abruptly out of the darkness that the Sweeper very nearly smashed straight through it.

"Please do be careful," Dr. Tezla warned him. "It's structural stability is already compromised." The suited man stalked out of the cockpit, muttering angrily as Sparky sparked at him.

Monkey frowned slightly as he brought the sweeper to a halt; in the past few days, Tezla seemed to take on a somewhat resentful attitude toward the robot where he had previously been simply indifferent. Monkey had a suspicion as to why, but he was hardly a psychologist and wasn't entirely confident in his guess yet.

Following Tork's practical-minded suggestion, another trip into the nearby town had yielded stacks of bottled water and nutritious (albeit rather dry) sandwich packs, along with a distinct lack of notable news. Which was good news, Karma had said, for it meant that they were still under the radar. "Yeah," Monkey had added, "I mean, imagine if the US had gone into Martial Law while we were gone, or something like that! That would be just crazy, right?" Everyone had just given him strange looks.

Now, down in the main hold, there was a sort of organized chaos as everyone tried to figure out what to do or look like they knew what they were doing, with very little that actually needed to be done. With the oven-like daytime temperatures giving way to the frigid air of the nighttime desert, and with more adequate food supplies stacked up in one corner, everyone's earlier ennui had been replaced by an aimless sort of energy.

"May I have everyone's attention for a moment," Tezla said, and all eyes were on him. Monkey quickly dropped the rest of the way down the ladder, and scooted past as inconspicuously as he could to stand by Pork Chop. "During the World Race, after it had become clear that there was a saboteur among us," Everyone either glanced at Kurt or made a point of not meeting his gaze at this, "I felt it would be prudent to create backup vehicles so that the final two legs could be completed. Fortunately, only one ever had to be used," This time, it was Lani who gave a sheepish grin, "But duplicates of many of the cars remain in the old base's lower levels. It is of course your choice whether to make use of them or not, but assuming that I can still access them, you have plenty of options."

Monkey recognized his cue, and pressed a button. Up in the control room, Sparky stood up and danced over to the control console, raising the Sweeping Wheel out of the way with a loud whir. Cold air rushed in, and everyone beheld the ruined and weathered form of Tezla's cube.

"Lani, Taro, Kurt, and Wylde, I recommend you come with me. The rest of you may do as you wish."

Tork and Nolo shrugged and stood up as well, but Pork Chop, Karma, Shirako, and Monkey stayed inside the sweeper and simply watched the procession in silence. Even Pork Chop had a strange feeling of solemnity from the occasion; he didn't want to intrude.

To Tork and Nolo, it felt like ghosts had taken up residence inside the battered walls; even aside from the moaning wind, there was something in the way the sand shifted shallowly over metal floors, in the way their grainy footsteps echoed and distorted around the space. Only five years had passed, and as far as they knew everyone was still alive, but there was still a pervading sense that they were intruding on an ancient tomb.

For the other four racers, the feeling was a bit more complex. There were memories here; of rivalries and friendships, of team loyalty coexisting with inter-team comraderie. The grand ping-pong match between the Street Breed and Wave Rippers, or when a member of the Roadbeasts had base-jumped off the cube's outside corner despite Tezla's stern warnings. Silly, strange little incidents they had not really thought too much about at the time, had taken for granted – now after only five years they were somehow more meaningful, more vital. If they were intruding on a tomb, then for Kurt, Lani, Taro, and Markie… in a way, they felt they were intruding on their _own_ graves.

"Let's make this quick." Taro said, face set into an unreadable frown.

Tezla strode to a control panel on the far wall, tapping at it and muttering. "No, that won't work. Perhaps…" But for several long moments, nothing happened. Tezla finally gave up on that, and began walking around in a wide semicircle, still talking to himself in a quiet tone. "Gig," he suddenly said, "Can you…" His face fell. "Right, nevermind." The others just watched him, content to wait for now.

Finally, Tezla found whatever it was he was looking for, bending down despite the difficulty his suit provided, shifting some sand aside to reveal metal floor. He tapped it, and with a grating mechanical grinding sound, a small rectangle panel rose up. Beneath it was a small panel, flickering slightly but still functional, held up by a long steel pole. Dr. Tezla tapped at it briefly, then with a much louder roar that seemed to fill the entire spacious room, the floor around him began to sink. Sand poured down along the sides as it was dislodged by the rumbling, while the racers covered their ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise.

It finally stopped, and where there had been smooth sand before, there was now a large ramp, wide enough to fit a car and a half, leading down to a large door. Taro and Lani instantly recognized it; with Gig's assistance, Vert had used it to get down to Tezla's laboratory after the race ended, and they had been quick to follow him. "That's interesting; it used to be a lot quieter." Was all Tezla himself had to say.

After another bout of loud grinding as the sand-clogged door struggled to open, the group of seven stepped down into the dark tunnel, Lani flicking on the flashlight she had been cognizant enough to bring along. "Man, this is like one of those horror movies," Nolo couldn't stop himself from saying, "What do you want to bet we'll find some crazy drone factory or something down here?"

Even as they shook their heads, Tork and then Kurt both let out small chuckles at the comment. The mood suddenly broke, and suddenly they were all trying and failing to suppress small giggles – not just at how cliche the whole idea was, but just for the sake of laughter; after the past few days, maybe the whole past month, they needed it. Even Taro gave a small grin, and Lani found herself leaning on Nolo just to avoid falling over. Markie was practically doubled over, though very little sound even escaped him, his muscle-bound frame rocking with the force of sheer giddiness. After what he'd been through in the Drone's Headquarters…

Only Tezla remained completely stoic, coldly detached from the revelry. "Are you all quite finished?" He frowned at them, his purple glasses betraying nothing of his own thoughts. "We have work to do."

The group pulled themselves together soon enough, and continued to follow him as he lead them to a fork in the tunnel; the left path, as Lani recalled, led to the lab where he'd been studying the Wheel Of Power. Without hesitation, Tezla took them rightward. The tunnel was still dark, but the mood was lighter somehow, now.

The tunnel came to a sudden stop much sooner than anyone was expecting, curving rightward again to a door that faced back in toward the middle of the Cube. Tezla hesitated, then removed a glove to place his hand on the scanner; this door had thankfully remained unravaged by the desert outside, sliding smoothly into the wall to reveal an astonishing sight.

Of the thirty-five cars that had been driven through Highway 35, about twenty of them sat in neat rows inside the wide, low-ceilinged room beyond. Kurt hesitated only a moment before rushing over to Slingshot, recreated perfectly in its old purple and green. It didn't take long for Lani, Taro, and Markie to identify their own old cars; the '55 Chevy Nomad, the '70 Plymouth Roadrunner, and the Corvette Stingray, respectively. Nolo and Tork stood back respectfully as the drivers reunited with old friends.

"I have to say," Markie muttered as he cautiously set himself down on the Stingray's blue leather seat, "I don't know what I was thinking to give you up just like that."

Kurt, thankfully, didn't hear the comment, too caught up in his own reunion. It had been barely a month since he'd last sat down in Slingshot's tight but comfortable cockpit; even if it was missing some of the personal touches he'd added since joining the Teku, and the seat didn't mold to his figure like the old one had, there was still a sense of reunion with a friend he'd thought he'd lost forever back in the Storm Realm.

For Lani, it was more the look of the Nomad that got to her; after repainting it twice, first in a generic blue when she returned to her normal life, then in the red and white of an ambulance after rejoining Tezla, seeing the surfing figure of the Wave Rippers logo back on her door brought back a sense of adrenaline, a sense of adventure, that she'd all but given up on for reasons of her own.

"These are good." Taro nodded, unable to hide the wide grin breaking out across his own face.

Tezla shrugged in response before turning towards Tork and Nolo. "Do you wish to claim any of the other vehicles for your teams? They aren't likely to see any use by anyone else."

Tork did walk through the first row, looking at the various cars and trying to imagine them in Metal Maniacs decor, but soon enough he returned, shaking his head. "Maybe if we were out of options I'd agree, but we do still have some cars back at our old garage. These just… just don't feel right, somehow." Nolo shrugged in agreement, equally at a loss to explain his feelings.

Tezla simply sighed. "Very well, then. It would be a good idea to return to the others as quickly as possible." To the other four, he called. "Are you ready to go?"

The resounding rev of engines was more than sufficient as an answer.

The sun was beginning to rise by the time the cars had been brought back into the Sweeper, the base had been locked back down with all signs of intrusion carefully covered, and it had made the short five-mile trip back to the remains of the Acceledrome. Tezla had taken a few extra moments in the base; "I wanted to say goodbye," he explained, surprising everyone with the unexpected sentimentality, but now he was all business once more.

At the present, Nitrium, Slingshot, and Roadrunner were weaving their way through the mazelike field of boulders surrounding the mesa. Due to his suit, Tezla once again had to be the passenger in his own vehicle as Lani took the wheel. "You know," She said over the com as the flaming skull of the Scorchers edged past, "This is starting to feel a lot like old times, in some ways."

"I would hope not," Was Taro's reply. "I've had more than enough of traitors." He gave Slingshot a rough bump from behind, but Kurt didn't bother to respond. Beside her, Lani heard Tezla stiffen; while it was well known that Taro still didn't approve of Kurt after his treatment of Markie, his comment had served as an unintentional reminder of the other traitor that had recently left their midst.

But that thought was set aside for the moment as Slingshot turned the final corner and rocketed down the last straightaway. Kurt was surprised to find a gaping hole in the mesa's side up ahead; previously, it had resembled little more than a smooth rock face. But it made sense, he supposed, as the hologram projector must have been knocked out in the blast. There was a feeling of weightlessness as Slingshot drove straight off the cliff, and for a brief second, Kurt could imagine he was flying straight into the gaping may of some enormous beast. Then came the impact that would have utterly destroyed the suspension system of a lesser car, and Kurt scrambled to regain control. Just when he thought he was going to ram into the wall, though, he came to a stop; Roadrunner and Nitrium arriving seconds after. Stepping out of their cars, the four individuals gazed in awe at the scene before them.

The Acceledrome was all but gone. The red looping track that led to the hologram of the Wheel of Power was utterly obliterated, only a small section still dangling from the ceiling. The floor was no longer present, the lower levels reduced to metallic dust over a deep and rocky pit. What remained of the control tower was little more than scattered chunks of support struts and some wall panels. "Well, this was a waste of time." Kurt muttered, staring downward glumly.

Taro pointed across the gap. "Not quite."

Tezla gasped, his own spirits lifting somewhat. "Of course! It seems the blast was mainly directed upward, leaving much of the outward structures intact!" Sure enough, on the far side, the windows from the driver's quarters, mess hall, and meeting room were unbroken, even if the metal wall was scorched and still smoking weakly. A small ledge of concrete had remained intact as well, the remnants of the garage area; there were several stacks of the special all-terrain wheels that they had reverse-engineered from the Drones.

"But how do we get over there?" Lani asked. "I mean, there's off-roading, but that," she gestured back down at the rocky bottom, "Is something else entirely."

"Maybe if we still had the Accelechargers," Tezla said pointedly, "But the Drones took them."

Lani nodded, ignoring his jab. "That vine track would be really helpful right about now, just like…" Her face lit up.

"Just like the test track!" Tezla finished. "That would not have been destroyed either!"

Kurt jumped back into Slingshot and turned it around. "Now, don't panic if this works like I hope it does." He said. Then with a press of a button, a wave of energy rolled over his car, replacing the glossy purple with matte black. "I don't know how Gelorum got to your backups, but this just might be a good thing. Stand back, everybody." He deployed the energy crossbow he'd used so much as Zed-36, and stepped back out of his car armed with a rather unusual set of binoculars.

"So, where would you say the entrance ramp overlaps the test track?" He asked, and Tezla pointed to a spot about halfway up. A blue sphere of energy formed at the front of the vehicle, and with a few taps on the binoculars' controls, it was launched forward to blast a huge hole in the wall, between two of the red-glowing lightposts.

Taro was up now, deploying the Roadrunner's lava plow and bashing into the weakened spot. Rocks dislodged, rolling down the ramp and forcing Tezla and Lani to jump aside. "Careful!" The doctor cried; he seemed more concerned about Nitrium's safety than his own.

It took a half hour of alternating between blasting and bashing the wall, but finally they had dug a tight tunnel that inclined downward to merge into the test track. As they drove down and began the loop around to the garages, Kurt quickly shifted Slingshot back to its normal mode. "I… don't look good in black." He explained over the com, though nobody had asked.

After that, it was a simple matter of salvaging. Taro and Kurt had each been given a laundry list of items to retrieve from their respective teammates' quarters, while Lani and Tezla focused on recovering what little data they could from the fried computer systems. When the four of them went to grab a large panel of wall to use as a sled for the tires, they were surprised to also find a half-built Bassline lurking in a corner near the test track access. Eventually, they just dumped the wheels into the back, where the speakers had yet to be installed, and hooked that up to Roadrunner.

"Hold on," Kurt said, "I should also grab some of Vert's stuff, you know, for when we find him."

Running back upstairs, he quickly made his way through the various corridors. He'd come to befriend the surf rat during their time together on the Teku, and felt it would be a disservice not to rescue at least some of the surfing posters he'd probably plastered his quarters with.

He was just about to open the door to those quarters when a rhythmic clanging noise caught his attention. It was coming from the dining room, the only other spot they hadn't investigated at all, and the driver cautiously made his way over on silent tiptoes.

The door whooshed open to reveal a seemingly empty room, though the clanging had grown louder. Stepping slowly around toward the back, Kurt placed his hands on either side of a chair back, ready to pick it up as necessary. There was a small alcove where the discarded trays went, and the noise seemed to emanate from there.

Whirling around the corner and dragging the chair with, Kurt lifted it up to threaten a solitary Racing Drone. The robot was in poor shape, half knocked over and covered in soot like everything else, attempting and failing miserably to escape the alcove that was too tight for its hulking body. One of the panels from its shoulders was bent over, and it sparked just as much as Monkey's so-named creation.

Kurt bashed it over the head with the chair, and its green lights went dark.

"Where have you been?" Asked Tezla impatiently, until a second glance revealed what Kurt was dragging along with the rolled up surfing posters.

"Thought you or Monkey might like a look at this guy. He was stuck in the dining hall, by the tray disposal."

Taro helped the other racer haul it onto Bassline's back, securing the robot with some bunjee cords they'd found in Monkey's room. "Makes sense that it would survive the explosion too, if it was in here," the Asian man said.

"I just hope it's the only one. Let's go!" Tezla shooed them back into their cars, then with a final glance back at the Acceledrome, they were on their way once again.

* * *

**Unknown Time  
****Drone City, Highway 35**

Kadeem didn't know or particularly care how long it had taken him to climb the tower again; the modified speed and jumping ability of his drone enhancements certainly made the journey easier, but the hybrid was mostly just focused on the destination.

And what he found there surprised him, to the extent that his mechanical, logic-driven mind could feel surprise. The assembly lines were running, drones were patrolling in tight sweeps, RD-L1s directing the movements. On one floor, he found an assembly of workers building several Sweepers all in a row. He didn't stay long, focused on reaching the top and finding the reason for all of this. The drones were carrying on as though they weren't at the brink of victory; as far as Kadeem knew, Gelorum was still in the Ultimate Race.

Striding up the last ramp, he entered the chamber where the other human prisoner had been held. It had been changed, the dias in the center now holding Gelorum's throne once more. _Something in his subroutines said she had not had this strange contraption until very recently._ Standing before it as he gave orders to several other RD-L1s was _the_ Lieutenant; aside from Kadeem and Gelorum herself, he was the only drone to have a more advanced programming allowing for 'free will.'

Kadeem approached the dias, noting some of the other changes the the room – some workers now sat at holographic consoles in each corner near the pillars, and a great deal more tubes and wires hung from the ceiling, routing power to unknown new functions. "What is the meaning of this behavior?" He asked, voice still colored by the accent of his human portions. "Where is Gelorum?" He twitched slightly, sparks shooting out of the port in his neck.

The Drone Lieutentant looked down at him; if it had been capable of expression, he didn't doubt it would have given him a look of disgust. "Gelorum has been defeated. I have taken charge to complete her last directive – destroy all of the humans."

Kadeem twitched more violently, his human mind rebelling. Even the drone mind was in agreement, though for different reasons. "Such a task is a waste of our resources and technology. There is no need to invade earth; it is a distraction from our primary goal. It is the Accelerons who must suffer, as our queen dictated upon our banishment so long ago."

The Lieutentant stepped slowly, deliberately down the steps, accompanied by a chorus of clanks and whirring sounds. "Gelorum instructed me to ensure the humans' destruction upon her return, or in the event of failure. Her failure has been confirmed, and so I carry out my orders. You have no authority anymore, _hybrid._" Even as tall as Kadeem now stood, the Lieutenant towered over him, and the african had to take a step back.

Some third portion of his mind, something rooted in the Drone brain but still separate, some memory, came active at this. "Gelorum was damaged." Kadeem spat. "Her behavoir was erratic and illogical after the humans rediscovered this city. It is no wonder she failed to reach the Accelerons in that state!"

The Lieutentant would have narrowed its eyes if it had any. "Do not speak ill of our queen. You know nothing, hybrid. Your data has been corrupted by your human portions. Prepare to terminate." At these words, hidden doors along the walls flipped open, and several RD-07 motorcycle units drove out to face Kadeem, each one charging a small energy sphere. "Fire!" Shouted the Lieutenant, but Kadeem was quick, flipping out of the way with a series of gymnastic moves as the projectiles dissipated harmlessly against the floor.

"That is not in a Drone's programming." The lieutenant said. "More evidence of human corruption."

For a few brief moments, as the world whirled around him and he smashed his way through the drones, Kadeem was whole. His human mind and his drone mind were united, neither dominant and neither struggling to assert it, both working to the common goal of survival. Then the RD-07s and their drivers were little more than mechanical pieces strewn and spluttering around the throne room, and the drone side was in control again. "I need no termination. I will lead the drones to proper victory in Gelorum's stead, carrying out her aims from before her… malfunction."

Raising his arms, he remotely accessed the control network, rushing through and swiftly overpowering every drone mind he found. The worker units in the corners rose up and began advancing on the lieutanant.

But with a motion of his own, the Lieutenant raised his own arms, and the workers returned to their stations. "As I said, hybrid," He advanced on Kadeem with deadly intent, "You have no authority here."

Kadeem fought back. He didn't know or care how long the fight lasted or what happened during it; all that mattered was the destination. And his destination, unfortunately, was to find himself hanging over the balcony edge, with the Lieutenant advancing on him menacingly. As it crouched down and began loosening his fingers, he suddenly had a flash of another scene, only days ago. Instead of the Lieutenant, it had been two humans standing over him; instead of undermining his grip, they had been offering to pull him to safety.

"You are a mistake, Hybrid. Your mind is outdated and your purpose null." The lieutenant now had him hanging on by a single finger, and Kadeem, the human Kadeem, suddenly found himself in control and faced with a decision. In his vision, the lieutenant seemed to waver and shift, suddenly looking like Kurt Wylde in that strange black suit of his. Then he saw Kurt joined by Markie, the two of them wearing Teku and Metal Maniacs outfits. Blinking away this strange vision to reveal the ruthless drone once more, Kadeem realized his choice – continue to fight, or fall once again?

And he also realized the decision had already been made. Letting go of the ledge, he watched, this time in silence, as the Lieutenant fell away, the oddly emotional scream of rage whipped away by the wind. Kadeem spread out his limbs to slow his fall, then twisted around to land on his drone feet on a balcony far below. The metal cracked but held, and the hybrid quickly ducked through the opening back into the tower.

He found himself back in the room with the sweepers; every last worker turned as one to begin advancing on him.

Knowing where he wasn't wanted, Kadeem leapt back out, jumping to another ledge. This floor was thankfully uninhabited; the drone mind was beginning to creep back in but maintained his same route, finding a ramp leading back up a level, where several RD-06 vehicles were parked. Rushing between the rows, the hybrid found a wide door leading to another area that was blocked off from the main storage; inside he found a couple of RD-05s, an RD-09, and most importantly, Krazy 8's. The vehicle had been heavily modified, the orange glass of the spoiler and cockpit replaced with the translucent green of the drones, while the tan portions had been recolored in black and green. Kadeem leapt in, his legs folding and shifting to fit into the cramped space, and he roared off. It wasn't long before he had exited the tower, and it had taken even less time after that for several Soldier units in RD-06s to pursue. Kadeem activated the energy crossbow that had been built into the top of his spoiler, one blast destroying several in the row before they thought to separate. But even as he made his escape, the dual minds in Kadeem's body were each preoccupied with what the Lieutenant had said.

_Your mind is outdated_. What had that meant? The drone mind began processing the phrase, considering all possible meanings. As far as it knew, it had come online when it was implanted in the human. Yet there were strange memory files, unusual ideas that conflicted with its main programming about how the drones worked, how they had come to be.

_Destroy all the humans_ was more concerning to Kadeem. He could not return home, not as the monster he was now, but the need to end himself had faded away, replaced by a new drive. He was here and he was still alive, for better or for worse, and even twisted and unnatural as he now was, he vowed to make use of this new body to defend earth from the drones… assuming the other mind would let him.

* * *

**1/3/2007  
****Hollywood, California**

It was early morning, and the sound of sirens rang through the city streets as several police cars roared in pursuit of the escaping bank robbers. A man in the back of the car fired several shots, sending pedestrians screaming for cover. The car skidded around a turn, and while the first police car was able to make it, the next one collided with a fire hydrant, and the other two behind it quickly piled up.

The bank robbers sped up, paying no heed to the cameras watching them intently, as they jumped across a set of train tracks. Seconds later, the train itself came through with a lion-like roar, and the police car stopped. The policeman got out and cursed loudly as the robbers made their daring escape.

"Cut!" The director called out.

About a half-hour later, an attendant walked up to the driver of the robbers' escape car and handed him a check. "You did good, Lau. Dock'll want you back in a week or so if we need reshoots, but otherwise…"

Harrison Lau nodded and accepted the check with an only slightly plastered-on grin before making his way toward the back of the studio. Everything else was already taken care of, and he had returned his outfit to the costume people, so now that he had the money, all he needed to do was head home.

The stunt driver thought he'd done pretty well, too – his career was certainly suffering, that he'd had to resort to working for Melvin Dock of all people to bring home income, but not once during shooting had he let loose the various snide comments about the director that had been circulating through his head. Such a titan feat of willpower, he decided, was worth a night on the town with all of his friends.

All of his friends. Lau scoffed. Sure, he wasn't exactly a famed celebrity like the actor he was standing in for, but he was still reasonably well-known in Hollywood circles, and to call anyone a "friend" was incredibly naiive. Acquaintances and sychopants was more accurate in his mind, though he never let that out either.

As the dark canopy of Red Baron rose to block out the oppressive California sun, his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of static. He frowned down at his dashpad; the screen was flickering strangely. He twisted a dial ever so slightly, and the image suddenly resolved; staring back at him was some redheaded woman who also looked to be in some sort of car. "Uh… Who is this?" He asked, wondering how this lady had gotten the access to the car's com. There was obsessive fans, but even if he'd had a particularly huge amount, something like this was above and beyond.

"Esmerelda Sanchez." She introduced herself with a slight Texan twang. "We never spoke, but I was a Roadbeast in the World Race."

Harrison absentmindedly pulled out of the parking lot as she said this, but nearly smashed into a security van as realization smashed into him. "Right, the World Race! That… was several years ago. What's the deal?" Quickly correcting his mistake, he began driving through the various roads and backlots of Paramount studios. "I mean, that's over. It was… it was definitely something, but I've moved on."

Esmerelda gave a slight knowing grin and leaned back in her seat; she wasn't driving at the moment. "Last I heard, you've been doing some stunts for Dock of all people. I mean, I don't know for sure what we're doing now, but from what the good ol' doctor said, it's probably going to be a right bit more exciting that that."

Harrison frowned. "Well, the job's practically over anyway, and I've been paid… Fine." He pulled out the gates of the studios, and sped up somewhat as he drove down the main, palm-tree-lined road. Even if he didn't know Esmerelda specifically, among the Scorchers, he realized, he had made some very real friends. And, of course, this woman was telling the truth – the fairly safe and controlled environment of the studio was nothing compared to what he'd experienced on Highway 35. "When and where do I meet you?"

* * *

"Woo!" Esmerelda gave a cheer as Harrison Lau hung up, and Skeet winced. The two were sitting in their respective cars in the parking lot of a Motel 6, somewhere in northern Florida. They'd begun their recruitment drive earlier that day; with Finn Serpa of the Waverippers and Ric "Griffin" Handy of the Roadbeasts already on board, the addition of Harrison had gone a long way towards boosting morale after Yucatan had simply not picked up the call going to Power Rocket.

They would try again, of course, but Skeet had already voiced the possibility that the serious and quiet former Roadbeast simply wasn't going to be available, either because he had a busy life outside driving as Esmerelda had, or because he may have abandoned Power Rocket entirely, for whatever reason. Either way, of the four people on the list they'd already called, three had agreed to meet them at the Tezla Cube in Nevada in five days, and were presumably on-route.

On that note, Skeet started Vulture's engine. "Shouldn't we get on the road ourselves? We can keep calling people at our next stop." Esmerelda agreed, and the two pulled out of the parking lot. It was time to start heading west.

* * *

**6/29/1966  
****Handler's Corners, Nevada**

It had been about a month since Julia's arrival, and she had settled into life there, and the rest of the town had grown used to her presence as well, minimal as it was. Kelly still shot her glares once in a while, but there was less feeling behind them now; the waitress otherwise seemed to treat her crush's co-worker with a practical sort of indifference.

Julia maintained her steady schedule with a casual sort of perfection, and while not outright reclusive, it became clear to Gavril that aside from the occasional night-time walk, she still mostly just kept to the Inn, the Diner, and the Garage. After that one night when she had accidentally revealed some of her past, she'd changed her walks to following the highway out into the desert and back, only a mile or so each way but apparently enough to satisfy her urge to wander. Gavril wondered if she would ever get bored of the same-ness of her schedule, but his question would never go answered.

For on Wednesday the twenty-ninth, three more strangers came into town.

It was morning, and Julia was just approaching the Garage to clock in when two cars suddenly pulled in, nearly bowling her over in their haste. The woman stood back up and brushed herself off, frowning at the trio that hopped out and rushed into the garage.

Gavril, still sleepy-eyed and clutching his coffee like it was a lifeline, found himself accosted by three frantic teens, looking like they were fresh out of high school. "Racing – Desert – Broke down," was all he could make out between the three of them. Throwing back his coffee with the air of a brave soldier going into a battlezone, he did his best to calm them. "Now, pleaze, could you juzt…" He tried, but was immediately cut off.

"Ahem." Julia coughed from behind, and the three instantly quieted, sensing the danger in her tone.

"Thank you, Julia," Gavril said. Julia simply punched in her timecard, unwilling to talk to the people who'd nearly run her over not even a minute ago. "Vell, then, you three. Vhat vould seem to be the problem?"

"We were racing out in the desert when Mickey crashed into a rock!" A dark-skinned boy explained, gesturing to his more pale companion. "Mickey's fine, but his car's not – can you help fix it?"

Gavril sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead to stave off the inevitable headache. "I suppoze I can, but I'll need to get the shop ready; ve only just opened." He glanced over at his co-worker. "Julia, do you think you could take the tow truck out there and retrieve this boy's wehicle?"

Julia gave an uncharacteristic sigh, but reluctantly nodded and gestured for Mickey to follow her out back. The tow truck, a beat-up and rusting old hunk that Jose had owned, didn't look like much from the outside, but the engine was a marvel, ministered to as it had been by both Jose and Gavril. Julia had never had cause to drive it herself before now, so it was with some degree of trepadition that she gripped the vertical steering wheel to drive. She'd always preferred smaller cars, but a job was a job, even if that meant she had to sit next to someone she'd already grown to dislike in what little time she'd known him.

Meanwhile, Gavril instructed the other two to take seats while he began preparing one of the empty spots, and retrieved a second cup of coffee. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

It was just over a half-hour when Mickey instructed her to pull over; sure enough, just by the side of the road was a smashed blue Shelby GT 350, the front end practically wrapped around the boulder it had collided with.

"Wow, this… this may not even be worth saving." Julia just shook her head in amazement as she got out and began unreeling the tow cable. "You're lucky to have survived at all." She frowned at the car. "For that matter, if I have my facts right, this exact model came out earlier this year. Aren't you a bit young to be driving this?"

Mickey grinned sheepishly. "Well, I didn't steal it if that's what you're trying to say."

"I'm not saying anything." Julia bent down to attach the hook. "I just think it's odd."

Mickey just threw up his arms, turning around to look out across the desert. "Real nice place you've got out here." The sun was glaring down with all the rage it could muster; he could swear there was a lake out there where sand had just been, if he hadn't known it was a mirage. The salt flats seemed utterly devoid of life aside from the two of them. As far as he was concerned, this was as close to hell on earth as it got.

"I've gotten used to it. Not pleasant during the day, yes, but the nights are cool." Julia finished attatching the tow cable and got in the truck to begin reeling it in. Slowly but surely, the wrecked Shelby was pulled away from the rock, revealing a massive V-shaped indent in the front. "Again, it's a miracle this crash didn't kill you."

"Can we just go?" Mickey wheedled.

* * *

Gavril shook his head as he and Julia pushed the Shelby into the garage, both leaning forward to the point they were almost horizontal, and mindful to avoid brushing against the many ragged edges left by the warped metal. The three teens stood by, faces as solemn as though they were watching a funeral procession. "This iz a dizaster." Gavril muttered. "There iz no vay you vere driving below the speed limit."

Mickey just sighed in agreement, the two mechanics' combined disappointment having cowed him into submission more thoroughly than any rage might have, but Ardeth, a ginger-haired girl with horn-rimmed glasses, was quick to jump in. "Well, we were racing, weren't we? And it's not like speed limits apply out on the salt flats…"

"That doesn't excuse you from looking where you're going." Julia leveled the teen with a cold glare before taking her own advice and focusing on the task at hand. Ardeth was the one who had nearly hit her, but Julia wasn't going to let that get to her… too much. "So long as you've learned your lesson… well, you're still going to have to pay for services. Even if we can fix this thing, though we'd really be better off replacing it at this point, it's not going to be cheap."

Kip, the dark-skinned boy who seemed to be their unofficial leader, spoke up. "We'll find a way. Listen, is it okay if Mickey stays here for the rest of the day at least? We were going to a race about fifty miles south of here when the crash happened; if Ardeth and I can get there, we may be able to get some prize money to pay you back with."

Gavril sighed as the implication of that sunk in. With a final heave, he and Julia pushed the wreck into place, and the Russian stood up to his full height. "Okay, az I undersand this, you are barely adults, you are rather short on money… vhere do you even live?"

"Well, after our friends Mike and Janet went off to college, the three of us have just been driving around. I mean, we're not hobos or drifters; we're just kind of going across the country to see what we can see, and go to races on the way." Ardeth explained defiantly, challenging him to criticise their lifestyle.

"But now you're short a car." Gavril said. "I'm not any of your fatherz, so I will not tell you vhat to do, but let me say this – If you don't win enough money to pay for this repair job, you'd best get used to Handler's Corners. I will not tolerate you running off and leaving me with your trash." Julia was surprised at how angry he was, but a glance back at the smashed Shelby was enough explanation.

"Well, hopefully that won't be an issue." Kip said. "We'll win this race, and even if we don't, we'll have to come back for Mickey." With that, he and Ardeth stood up and stepped out of the garage. Kip climbed into a heavily customized Mustang in a greyish white, while Ardeth took the wheel of a purple, just as modified Firebird. The two waved at Mickey as they pulled out. "You'll see," Kip shouted, "We'll come back this evening and pay for the whole thing!"

With that, the two cars peeled away and drove off back out into the desert, Mickey waving weakly at them the whole while.

"You neglected to mention they'll be getting to know Handler's Corners one way or the other. This is going to take a month at the _very_ least," Julia said. "Unfortunately."

Gavril simply chuckled. "Oh, I didn't feel it necessary to tell them juzt yet. Let's see vhat they come back with first; the vay I see it, they either vin and we get to bring them down to reality, or they loze and we rub salt in the vound."

"Wow," Mickey said behind them. "You guys suck."

* * *

**1/2/2007  
****Unknown Location**

Vert very quickly realized that the Silencers' base was only cool for the first half-hour or so before the soft lighting and opressive monochrome shades of white, silver, purple, and lavender became dull, bleak and downright depressing. To make matters worse, he had no idea where he was going, and had also managed to lose track of the route back to the room he'd awoken in. He had considered stopping someone to ask for directions, but there was virtually no foot traffic compared to yesterday, and… he wasn't quite yet ready to try to talk to one of the many Gig lookalikes that floated in serene clusters throughout the maze.

He'd noticed it the previous night, but it wasn't until now, with his full attention focused on his surroundings, that he began to realize how strangely this place was built. The hallways were shaped like a flattened oval, with the floor subtly curving upward before swinging into sharp curves that barely counted as walls, meeting again in the ceiling on a gentler incline once more. Despite that design feature, though, he looked through long, narrow, and decidedly rectangular windows into normal boxlike rooms beyond, and he'd seen the occasional branching hall or doorway that also retained normal form. The slopes of the hallway were even divided up into a complex jigsaw of straight-edged, loosely rectangular polygons; dappled in different shades of white or purple seemingly at random. The place was well-lit, panels in the ceiling every so feet glowing an intense white that further contributed to the eye strain Vert could swear he was getting. For some reason, he was reminded of the brief glimpse of the Neon Pipeline Realm he'd gotten during the Ultimate Race.

Glancing through another window, he could have sworn that the chamber beyond, neatly stacked with unidentifiable equipment, was one he'd seen from completely different angles twice before. "Ugh, this is stupid," He groaned, "I'm pretty much lost."

As if on cue, a door not too far down the hall opened, and another X-88 floated out and began making a slow but steady beeline for the blonde. Stopping before him, it announced itself in a warbly and mechanical voice that reminded him of the way Gig had spoken during the World Race. "I am to bring you to speak to Doctor Sage. Follow me."

The robot turned and floated a few feet away, stopping to glance back. Vert got the message, and with a slight sigh, left the window to follow it. It led him right, left, forward, left, then up a long but shallow incline, left, forward… He lost track after that, but earlier than he expected, they finally came to a stop by another doorway just as indistinguishable as the rest. "You may enter." The robot said, backing off a few spaces so Vert could step inside.

"This was a reckless decision. You should have sought authorization from me or the base commander first, at the very least. We cannot trust that everything he learned here will go straight back to Tezla!"

"I had to do what I thought was right. Besides, he had already seen too much for us to just drop him back with Tezla, and there was no point in keeping the rest hidden anymore. I'll take full responsibility for thi-"

"Yes, you will! My brother is already calling for an investigation into my suitability to lead; I don't need to deal with this as well."

'Inside' turned out to be a long, low-ceilinged meeting room. The dark wooden table running the length of the space was a visual relief, standing out from the violet carpet and white-paneled walls as it did. So focused on the table was he that the surfer didn't notice that he wasn't alone, at first. A third voice cut in, though, snapping him to awareness. "Either way, it doesn't matter now. He's here, he knows a lot, and he's standing right behind you both."

The speaker was a tall and broad-shouldered hispanic man, but Vert's attention was mainly on the two arguing people he was addressing. The one on the left was of course his father, wearing his military uniform, but Vert didn't recognize the woman on the right. She was skinny, and surprisingly short given the authoritative tone she'd just been speaking in, only coming up to Vert's chest. She seemed to be in her mid-thirties, as far as Vert could tell; maybe a bit younger. Her short blonde hair was tied up in a practical bun, and she wore a light blue uniform with white circuit-board patterns on the sleeves; Vert couldn't tell if they were just for decoration or if they served a practical purpose. She carried a clipboard in one hand, and gave him a vaguely disapproving look over her half-moon spectacles.

"Hello, son." Jack began. "I see you found your way here okay." Someone else sniggered slightly, but was immediately shushed. "This here is Doctor Sage; she's the head of operations for my team."

Sage gave a frustrated sigh and strode toward the back of the room. "I suppose we may as well introduce him to the team, but we will still need to further discuss this at a later point." Now that he could see the rest of the room more clearly, Vert found that there were seven others seated around the table; at Jack's promting, they each took turns standing to shake Vert's hand and introduce themselves.

"Agura Ibaden, special operations and second in command. Pleasure to meet you outside the realms." Agura was a professional but smiling dark-skinned woman with cornrow braids all coming together in a bushy ponytail; though she wore a white-and-purple uniform, she had a bright lime green bracelet on one wrist.

"Sherman Cortez; I'm responsible for a lot of strategic and tech support. We've heard a lot about you." This was the large man who'd pointed out Vert's presence; though his frame and somewhat thick voice seemed to suggest a hefty amount of brawn, a keen intellect shone through in his deep blue eyes and was further supported by his sophisticated way of speaking.

"And I'm his big bro, Spinner." The supposedly elder Cortez brother was considerably more diminutive in frame, and had a certain sense of nervous energy to him. He shook Vert's hand wildly, with something of a contrite expression. "Sorry about, you know, knocking your car out back there in the Junk Realm."

"That was you?" Vert simply raised his eyebrow, not sure how to react to this revelation.

"Greetings, Vert! I am known as Stanford Issac Rhodes the Third. One-Hundred and Eighty-Ninth in line for the Throne, best DJ this side of Britain, and this sorry lot's grand Comm Officer. They'd all be lost without me." The british man with a ginger mohawk puffed his chest like some sort of bird. Everyone else just shook their heads in familiar toleration of his prideful shenanigans.

"I'm Zoom Takazumi – Don't laugh, that really is my name. I'm the scout." Zoom was of Asian lineage, and wore a yellow headband around his forehead. Vert decided he liked him; the younger kid seemed to have a casual air about him that the others lacked.

The next man in line seemed unhealthy, painfully skinny and with dark circles under his sunken eyes. Regardless, he gave Vert a warm smile as they shook hands. "I am Tezz Volitov, premiere technical officer and expert on all thingz electromagnetic. I am the genius behind many of the thingz our wehicles can do." Vert nodded and moved on quickly; something about the man put him on edge.

Possibly the biggest surprise was who was last in line, who needed no introduction to Vert. "AJ?" he gasped, and the canadian gave a wide grin.

"C'mere, you little rascal!" AJ began giving Vert a good-natured noogie before a cough from Sage reminded them both of their surroundings. Still, Vert couldn't conceal his surprise; AJ had been a longtime friend of the family who had frequently come by for dinner, and was at least partially responsible for Vert's interest in extreme sports. He wasn't the brightest, but he was loyal and energetic as a puppy, and incredibly skilled with driving in slick or blizzard-like conditions; it wasn't hard to guess at his role in the team.

"It's really good to see you!" Vert said, then with a glance at the rest of the room, added "And it's nice to meet you all, too." There was a sort of surreal aspect to the moment – here he was in the middle of the enemy base, and yet everyone he'd met so far seemed rather nice and friendly, even Tezz. He'd have to wrap his head around all of this later, though, for his father was speaking again.

"Follow me; I have just one more thing to show you." Jack beckoned Vert to follow him through another door, both doing their best to ignore Sage's exasperated eye-roll. Vert stepped through the opening, and let out a loud gasp of surprise. If everything he'd seen up to now had been strange and unexpected, that was nothing to what waited before him now.

* * *

Woo, cliff-hanger! I'd like to apologize for the delay in updates; I had this chapter mostly finished last week, except for Vert's scene. I wanted to ask what everyone thought of the bit with Julia and Gavril; am I writing his accent correctly? Is Julia coming off as too much of a Mary Sue? For that matter, what do you think of Battle Force 5 as the Silencerz; was it a bad decision, or was I right to avoid throwing in a bunch of random OCs? Please leave a review and let me know!

**Carfacts:** In the one episode of the original 60's Hot Wheels cartoon that I watched, Mickey was driving a Shelby, thus why I gave him one here. Ardeth was also driving a car, but it didn't seem to be one that existed, or even one produced for Hot Wheels. Kip and Ardeth are driving two cars from the original "Sweet Sixteen," the redlines the came out during Hot Wheels' first year of production. (Gavril's Ford Galaxie was randomly chosen from a list of cars that had come out in the sixties.) Also, though this will be discussed in a future chapter, the BF5!Silencerz have all been given Silencerz cars rather than the Buster, Tangler, and so forth. I've already given a hint at what one of them drives...

**Next Time:** Tezla's group go undercover, Kadeem makes an intriguing discovery, Esmerelda and Skeet have a rather... interesting conversation with one of the people they call, Kip and Ardeth return from the race, and Vert continues to be overloaded with new information about the Silencerz.


End file.
